Dear Soldier
by sona89
Summary: When young photographer Judy accepts an job offer as a civilian war photographer with the Signal Corps and is assigned to the same unit her new and mysterious pen pal serves with, she doesn't know that the experience of war won't be the only thing that changes her life forever.
1. Prologue

_**"Dear Soldier"**_

 **Rated:** M – for violence, language, mature/adult situations (though the first and last will probably occur first in later chapters)

 **Summery:** When young photographer Judy accepts an job offer as a civilian war photographer with the Signal Corps and is assigned to the same unit her new and mysterious pen pal serves with, she doesn't know that the experience of war won't be the only thing that changes her life forever.

( **Also:** Any historical mistakes I make, I apologize for. I've done as much research as I could. I'm considering this a kind of historical-fiction so any interruption of factual events should be overlooked. And seeing as this is a Speirs/OC story – Speirs, in THIS world, is a single man.)

 **Note:** I was inspired to this work by the story 'Written In Ink' of Nevermore_red on AO3. To get into the flow of writing I borrowed sentences and passages of her story, sometimes using them word for word and other times changing a few things or adding something to make it fit my plot and where I want my story to go. As my story progresses, starting in the early chapters, I used less and less of Nevermore_red's 'Written In Ink', as you will notice should you check out her amazing story on AO3. However, before publishing my story, I asked Nevermore_red for her permission to use the parts I borrowed from her story and she graciously granted me this permission. At this point I want to thank her profusely for permitting me to publish my story even with the parts I used of her enjoyable piece of work and I also would like to recommend you to check her story out. It is a really enjoyable story and Nevermore_red is a great and skilled writer who managed to capture the emotions of her story perfectly in and painted a beautiful picture of an unlikely pair finding love through letter exchange with words.

You find her story ' **Written In Ink** ' under her name **Nevermore_red** on **AO3** in the fandom of **Game of Thrones**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

 _April 4th 1944_

 _Dear Soldier,_

 _It feels a little odd to write someone I don't even know. I don't know your name or circumstances so it's difficult to know what to say._

 _I guess it would be a good start with explaining how it comes that I write you. My little sister's school has this project going where every student shall write a letter to a soldier as kind of a moral boost from home ... you know, to let you know that we support and appreciate what you are doing to keep us and our country safe and that you and your fellow soldiers are in our thoughts and prayers. Part of that project is that every student has to encourage at least one person outside of the school to also write a letter to a soldier and well ... my little sister persuaded me to take part in the project. Okay, maybe she didn't really need to persuade me that hard, all it took her was simply to ask and give me one look of her adoring poppy-dog eyes. Trust me, if you knew that look, you couldn't deny her anything either. Anyway, the school then gathered all the letters and somehow organized them to be send to a random soldier of our Army._

 _So, that's the reason why you now hold this letter from a complete stranger in your hands._

 _Well, I guess this should be the point where I start writing how grateful I am for the sacrifice you bring in being over there and fighting for the defence of our country and how much I appreciate your willingness to put your life on the line for those who have to stay home and can't defend themselves and so on. I can't shake the feeling that this isn't what you, or any other soldier, want to hear though and while it is all true, I would totally understand if by now you have tossed the letter out, which is at any point in time your right. Don't worry, I would totally understand and won't be upset._

 _If you are still reading then perhaps it helps to know that I do know some of the hardships of war. Not first hand, of course. While I admire what you do, what all soldiers do, I certainly wasn't made for battle. My father is retired Army and I have an older brother and a very dear cousin that are over seas now. My younger brother, he just turned eighteen a few months ago, is away at basic training and will soon join them._

 _I never was much interested in stories of war, but when almost three years back the news came that we would join the war in Europe and the Pacific, I asked my father what war is like. He never really talked about his experience so I didn't expect him to give me an answer, but he did. He said war is hell and that he only survived his first battle and every one that followed because he took the words his then commanding Officer said to him to heart. Those words were 'Aim with the hand. Shoot with the mind. And kill with a heart like arctic ice.'_

 _I won't pretend to be able to really comprehend those words, probably never will, but I think I understand the gist of it. And maybe, for what is to come, they might be something you can recall into your mind should you ever struggle with what you have to do._

 _Anyway, his words that war is hell I can somewhat relate to. They are true and not just for the soldier._

 _But this is all stuff you likely don't want to hear either. So I'll be more upbeat, shall I?_

 _Upbeat. Right. Not knowing anything about you or your sense of humour, I'll just tell you a bit about my day. Boring, right? Well, remember you have still every right to just toss the letter out._

 _I work freelance as a photographer and am also an artist, or an aspiring artist I suppose. Some of my paintings are being displayed in a gallery. Anyway, I was walking around on opening day and saw a husband and wife talking over one of my paintings and one hanging near it that wasn't mine, trying to decide which one to purchase. I hung back and listened, silently hoping beyond hope that they would pick mine, when the wife nodded her head and pointed at mine, saying 'this one, for sure'. Unable to help myself, I went over and introduced myself as the artist and asked if they were more realistic fans than abstract, as the other painting they were considering was abstract. The husband laughed and said 'No. This one is longer. It'll cover the three holes our five year old put in the wall'._

 _Uh, ouch! Can you imagine? Well, maybe not, but it was embarrassing. I guess I sold a painting so I can't be too picky._

 _Anyway, I hope that my funny little tale helped brighten your day, if only for a tiny bit. They say in the news that the invasion is starting soon, though that is what is said for the past few months already, so I suppose I'll let you get back to more important duties._

 _Stay safe. Stay strong. And thank you for all that you do._

 _J.H._

 _PS, this is totally up to you, but if you ever need anyone to talk to, feel free to write me at any time, about anything you'd like. I'm a good listener! I'll attach my PO Box to the end of this letter._

* * *

Ron sat at a table outside the barracks of his Company, methodically cleaning his side arm as he listened to the soldiers talking around him. No one spoke directly to him and most never did, unless it was needed. It wasn't that he was an unsocial person, he could be social if he wanted, but mostly with other Officers and even then he tended to be more a listener and only partook actively in a conversation that interested him. As for the Company he was the CO of, he preferred to keep a professional distance between him and the men and they respected that. Ron knew that this partly had to do with the reputation that preceded him, but that was okay with him and thus he didn't put any effort into diffusing them. But he also liked to be near the men, often like now, being amongst them without really being with them. It allowed them to realize that, no matter his reputation, as their leader, he would always be with them and it also gave Ron insight to the type of men he was commanding.

He was just starting to put his weapon back together when a young soldier, Private Vest if he remembered correctly, came around with his arms full of letters. He shuffled through them, calling out names of the soldiers as he handed them their correspondence. Ron ignored him for the most part. There weren't many people who wrote him, only his parents and siblings, and he had just responded last week to a letter from them so he didn't anticipated to already have a reply.

"Lieutenant Speirs.", the boy called his name and Ron glanced up from his reassembly to look at the soldier, who looked like he wanted to run the other way instead of holding out a single envelope towards him.

"A letter for you, sir.", he needlessly pointed out and the table of soldiers drew silent as they waited for his reaction.

For a moment Ron was looking expressionless into the slightly frightened eyes of the young soldier and then he arched an eyebrow and lowered his gaze to the envelope in his hand, noting that it was shaking just a tiny bit.

Slowly reaching for the envelope Ron took it from him and glanced at the front of the envelope, "Thank you, private.", he said and from the corner of his eye he could see the boy quickly turning around and walking away, no doubt glad to be away from him.

Ron wondered from whom the letter was. His name and rank were stamped on it so it wasn't from his family. There also wasn't a return address so that left out it being an official letter as well. Curious, but unwilling to open it at the moment he shoved the letter inside the breast pocket of his ODs and went back to his weapon. The other men, seeing that there wouldn't be anything exciting, went back to their conversations.

He didn't have time the rest of the day to read the letter. Morning PT, an intelligence meeting, weapons training, meals and evening PT took up any time he had. He'd actually forgotten about the letter all together until he got back to the quaint little house of an old British couple he was billeted in to catch a shower and then after maybe go to the pub in town.

It was when he emptied all the pockets of his OD jacket, so he could bring them on his way to the pub to the nice woman in town who offered laundry service for the soldiers stationed here, that the envelope fell to the floor as he pulled his pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket. Bending down Ron retrieved the letter from the floor and sat down on the edge of his bed. He opened the letter and unfolded it. The script was elegant and small, clearly that of a woman. Before he started reading, he glanced at the bottom to see who it was from, but only the initials JH were written. He frowned, wondering what this was about and started reading.

As he read he couldn't agree more with the unknown woman. While a nice thought and gesture, he and probably his fellow soldiers who received a similar letter, do not really want to read this words. Though no doubt genuinely meant, in the end it were just words that meant little to nothing to them and they had more important matters to concentrate on.

He thought about doing what the woman had offered and toss the letter out before he even finished it. He wasn't quite certain what stopped him from just doing it, but he found himself devouring the letter.

Maybe it was because the woman had stated her honest opinion about how he didn't really want to hear those kind of words or the fact that she, despite that, had taken her time to take pen and paper in hand to write a letter. He felt the least he could do was to read the letter to the end and see what she had written.

She seemed to understand the strains of war, and considering it seemed that she came from a family whose male members were all in the service, he believed her and, oddly enough, felt a shimmer of sympathy for a complete stranger. He could imagine how hard it was for her, with her brothers and cousin all about to fight in this war and with her father probably having been often away while still in the Army, just as he knew how hard it was for his parents and siblings to know he was about to go into battle.

He found similarities to his own way of thinking on how to act and behave when going to war as he read the words said to her by her father and felt kind of relieved, maybe, that he wasn't the only one following this kind of mind-set.

He'd even felt a bubble of mirth he hadn't felt since they were shipped to England to prepare for the invasion at her little tale of embarrassment.

Folding the letter back up, he put it back in its envelope, intent on tossing it in the rubbish bin on the way out his door. He paused with it hovering over the bin. It felt wrong, made him feel guilty somehow, to throw it away. This woman, whoever she is, had taken time to write him. He shouldn't just toss it out like garbage.

He moved to the small desk in the corner of his room and opened the metal tin he kept his pens and pencils in and placed the letter inside.

He had no idea at the moment how much this simple letter will come to mean to him over the coming time. Or just how important the unnamed woman would end up being to him.


	2. Chapter 1

_**"Dear Soldier"**_

 _ **Note**_ : Credits go to Nevermore_red who's amazing story 'Written In Ink' on AO3 has greatly inspired me to write this story of my own and who graciously permitted me to publish it with those parts I borrowed from her story.

Check out her story ' _ **Written In Ink**_ ' on _**AO3**_ in the fandom of _**Game of Thrones**_. You find it under her name _**Nevermore_red**_.

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

He heard the explosions before the plane broke out of the clouds and gave sight to the German flak going off in the dark sky. Leaning to the side and looking out of the open door on the side of the plane, Ron witnessed the air over Normandy being lit up by artillery, an orange glow permeating the darkness from burning planes which got hit and were spinning down to the earth. Occasionally a few small burning figures were seen tumbling out of one of those unfortunate planes, a last and sadly more than likely futile attempt to make it to the ground alive. His gaze wandered between all the planes and parachutes of those troopers already jumped to the ground. Over the whole landscape he could see flashes where the Germans were firing their anti-aircraft-guns, aiming to shoot them out of the sky.

His plane rocked and he was thrown back into his seat. Looking around, Ron saw the terrified and frightened faces of the other soldiers in his plane. How many of them would it make through this day? How many of them will find their bodies crushed on the ground, their life force staining foreign soil? Would he be one of them?

He swallowed hard and the ensuing chaos outside the plane dimmed until Ron could hear nothing besides the rushing of his blood in his ears.

 _War is hell._

The words he had heard before and read just a little over two months ago, filtered through his mind. He thought of all the families of the unfortunate soldiers who won't survive the day. Of mothers who would soon hear that their son was dead. Or fathers confronted with not being able to protect their child. Maybe even girlfriends or sisters, like the one who had written him.

 _Stay safe. Stay strong._

For some reason those four words rushed into his minds eye, in her delicate and feminine script.

The flash of the red light next to the door and slightly above and to the right of his head jerked Ron's attention away from the faces of the frightened soldiers.

For a moment he was just staring at the red light.

 _Stay strong._

Ron snapped out of his mentally frozen state and went into the mode of a commanding officer of his company, standing up and shouting out commands, gesturing for the rest of the soldiers in the plane to stand up, hook up and check their equipment, just like they practiced countless times beforehand. He hooked himself into the line and shouted for the men to sound of the equipment check.

Outside all hell was still loose and he couldn't hear the men shout, but he saw their mouths moving and when the man in front of him moved his mouth, Ron answered with, "One okay!"

The plane was shaking and trembling when Ron moved to stand in the door to wait for the red light to go green. He didn't need to wait long and as the light flashed green, he closed his eyes for a second before stepping out of the door and into the nothingness.

 _Stay strong._

The blast from the propeller ripped his leg bag off, but that was okay, he didn't put anything important inside it anyway. Bullets were whizzing past him as he floated to the ground and he glanced up to his deployed chute, willing them to miss the only thing that currently kept him from crushing to the ground.

 _Stay safe._

He landed in a field of tall grass, the ground soft and muddy from the rain the previous day that had delayed their invasion. He crouched down and cut his chute off with the knife he stuffed into his boot, put it back and moved to unslung his rifle only to find it not where he put it around his back. Ron pulled his sidearm then and stayed low, listening. He was alone. Slowly he made his way in a crouch to the edge of the wood, intent to walk under the cover of its shadows and find out where he is and where he has to go.

He walked about two miles without encountering anyone, friend or foe. In the distance he still heard German artillery being fired and now and then there were gun shots to hear, but never that close that he was in acute danger. Ron was alert and held his sidearm at the ready, always prepared to fire it if necessary, when he nearly stumbled over something which caused his cautious and quite steps to falter and twigs snap under his boots.

"Was war das?", _[What was that?]_ Ron heard a voice speak not too far ahead of him.

Immediately he crouched low to the ground and aimed his sidearm in the general direction of the voice. From the corner of his eyes he saw that what he stumbled over was a body, the body of an American soldier to be precise. The big and dark spot on the soldiers breast that shimmered slightly in the moonlight and the total motionlessness told him everything he needed to know that there was no hope for the soldier to be alive.

"Es kam von hinter uns.", _[It came from behind us.]_ another voice answered the first from the same direction.

Not knowing how close the Germans were, Ron was reluctant to move. It could be that they would see his movement before he got to cover and then he more than likely was a dead man as they would no doubt open fire immediately. No, his best bet to stay alive were to stay here and be faster then them should they come and investigate and he had every faith in himself that he would be.

 _Stay safe. Stay strong._

Again the woman's words rushed before his minds eye and he remembered what else she wrote, the words her father told her when she asked him what war is like.

 _Aim with the hand. Shoot with the mind. And kill with a heart like arctic ice._

Ron clenched his jaw, his side arm pointed forward in the direction of the voices.

"Hast du nicht gesagt der Amerikaner ist tot?", _[Didn't you say the American is dead]_ that was the first voice again.

"Hallo?", _[Hello?]_ the second voice called, "Kommen Sie raus!" _[Show yourself!]_

The crunching of the undergrowth under boots told him that the two Germans were moving. Soon Ron could make out two dark silhouettes about seven yards in front of him and he realized just how close the enemy had been to him.

The figures stopped, "Stehen Sie auf mit erhobenen Händen!", called the second voice.

Ron understood enough to know that they wanted him to stand up with raised hands, but he had no such intentions.

 _Stay strong._

Just as he saw the first muzzle of a gun flash in the dark Ron pulled the trigger of his sidearm. Once. And a second time.

The German in front went down with a grunt.

Next thing Ron registered was the sound of a gunshot and a bullet whizzing past his ear so near that he could feel its heat, but he had already aimed his sidearm at the second German and was pulling the trigger. _Aim with the hand. Shoot with the mind._ Again he fired two shots and the German went down with a groan. _Kill with a heart like arctic ice._

He waited a moment and listened again. Silence.

 _Stay safe._

Breathing out, Ron stood up and slowly went over to the Germans. They were dead. Only now did he lower his sidearm.

He went back to the dead American soldier and though he knew he was dead, he checked for a pulse nonetheless. After having confirmed that his assumption was right he closed the soldiers eyes and took one of his dog tags, pocketing it so he could give it to the right people, who would let his family know what happened, once he got to the assembly area. He also took the Thompson machine gun and ammo the soldier had on his body before continuing his way to the assembly area where he hopefully will find the soldiers of his company.

Ron made it to the assembly area without further incidents and after taking part in the assault of the fourth gun at Brecourt Manor with the small number of soldiers of his Company who made it thus far to the assembly area, he finally took some time to settle down and get some rest.

He found himself rummaging through his backpack with a unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, searching for the tin box he kept his pens and pencils in. Having found it he pulled the letter from the woman out and skimmed his eyes over her words, briefly halting at the words her father told her and thinking that he had done exactly what they said today. First with the two Germans as he wandered along the edge of the woods, then when he was given orders to execute the German prisoners and later when he took the fourth gun at Brecourt. He had felt nothing when he killed all those men. Kill with a heart like arctic ice. It was them or him, even with the prisoners. No doubt they had killed some of his fellow soldiers before they were captured and would have killed more if they had remained free. And orders had been to take no prisoners to begin with. He felt no remorse for the death of those men, they had signed up for this so they knew there was a high chance they would die. Just as he knows the same counts for him. He just has to be better and faster than the enemy.

His eyes wandered to the end of the letter where he traced those four words that had somehow accompanied him throughout the whole day.

 _Stay safe. Stay strong._

How did it come that those four simple words did mean so much to him today?

He set the letter aside and took the cigarette out of his mouth, putting it back into the packet for now. He pulled his notebook out of the backpack and reached into the tin box to pull out a pen.

* * *

 _June 6th 1944_

 _JH,_

 _Firstly, I would like to thank you for your letter. It was neither necessary nor expected, but it was appreciated._

 _My circumstances, I assume, are much the same as anyone else's. There is nothing highly unusual or interesting about myself. I'm a soldier. After attending college I signed up in the Army to serve my country in this time of war. I felt it would be something I am good at, being a soldier. Unlike yourself, I do not come from a family of servicemen. My father is an engineer. I have three older sisters and an older brother who is also an engineer._

 _Many would say my brother is a coward and that he should be ashamed of himself for not serving his country. But he is no coward, he just isn't made for battle. And I find there is nothing to be ashamed of in that._

 _War is hell, a hell that is better navigated without those who don't belong here. This is something your father probably would agree with as I can agree and relate to the words you wrote were told to your father before his first battle. In war, when someone shoots at you, tries to kill you, you can't think about this someone as a person. You have to think that you have to be better, to be faster and kill him first and you can't do that when you think about him as a person. There is only one hope in war and that is the hope to accept that you are already dead, because the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can function as a soldier is supposed to function: without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends on it._

 _Maybe reading this, you can better comprehend what your father meant with what he told you._

 _As for your story, take heart. They could have just paid to have a carpenter fill in those holes. They had to have liked your art at least somewhat to pay for it. You say you are a realist. Not that I could claim to being any sort of art connoisseur or critic, but I have always preferred realist to abstract. And modern art I don't understand at all._

 _Maybe you could send me a sample of your work. I have the reputation of being honest, at times harshly so. I'd let you know, in no uncertain terms, if I found your art good or not._

 _I have to say, I didn't realize just how much your letter would mean to me. To leave out all the harsh and gory details, your words at the end of the letter, and those of your father, got me through this difficult day. I can neither explain nor express how much those few words meant to me. I myself don't understand it. But your suggestion, or maybe it was a command, to be safe and to be strong, resonated far deeper than I had initially realized and your father's words helped me to stay true to my own mind-set._

 _Please do not feel pressured to continue writing, though you are free to do as you wish. I find I would not mind receiving another letter._

 _Lt. R.S._


	3. Chapter 2

**"Dear Soldier"**

 **Note:** Credits go to Nevermore_red who's amazing story 'Written In Ink' on AO3 has greatly inspired me to write this story of my own and who graciously permitted me to publish it with those parts I borrowed from her story.

Check out her story ' _ **Written In Ink**_ ' on _**AO3**_ in the fandom of _**Game of Thrones**_. You find it under her name _**Nevermore_red**_.

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

Judy read, and then reread the letter she held in her hands, the spikey, yet oddly uniformed script unmistakably masculine. For some reason her throat felt tight. She hadn't actually expected her mystery soldier to write her back, so she was rather surprised when she went to check her post box earlier today that there had been a letter from him. She had sent her letter about two months ago and where it took some time for mail to get shipped overseas, after two months without a reply she gathered that her mystery soldier must have took her up on her offer to toss the letter out. That would have totally been alright with her, but oddly enough she was happy he hadn't, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

She was even more surprised when she saw the return address on the back of the envelope. There was no whole name written, only Lt. R.S., but what surprised her was the regiment and battalion he seemed to belong to as it was the same as her cousin, only the company was a different one. What a coincidence. It could very well be that her mystery soldier and her cousin might know each other, even more so because they are of the same rank.

He seemed rather stiff and formal, but she hadn't minded. Underneath that he seemed genuine in his words. And that he had taken her words, words she had written without much thought, and the words of her father to heart the way he had, warmed her greatly. So of course she would write him again.

* * *

 _June 18th 1944_

 _R.S.,_

 _Or should I address you as Lieutenant? If we're going to be pen pals, it seems we should at least know each others names, instead of just initials. For this letter, I'll stick with initials and wait until I hear your opinion on the matter._

 _Do you want to hear what a funny coincidence is? When I saw your return address on the envelope, I instantly knew that you are a paratrooper even though you used only acronyms. How I know this? Well, that's the funny part, my cousin serves in the same regiment and battalion as you, albeit in a different company. So you very well might know him ... I'm not going to tell you who he is though (insert an evil smirk here). Maybe when we get to know each other better you will be able to guess who it is should you know him._

 _You are right, many people would probably say that your brother is a coward, but I understand why you don't think so and I agree. I only have to remember the conversation my father had with both of my brothers before they signed up in the Army. He basically told him the same you wrote in your letter, that war is better navigated without those who don't belong there. He asked them if they were absolutely certain that they can handle the strains of war, to see their comrades and friends get killed and not having time to mourn them because you have to keep a clear head in order to stay alive, to look the enemy in the face and to pull the trigger without thinking if they maybe have a wife and kid waiting at home because when you think about those left behind you would hesitate and that would get you and the men around you killed. My father asked them if they could live with not being able to wash properly for sometimes weeks, to live with little sleep and only meagre, horrible tasting rations as food, if they could sleep night after night on the cold hard ground with one eye always open to wait for the enemy to attack again, or be huddled in a foxhole while around them artillery was exploding and so on. I guess I don't have to write more about what my father asked them as you likely experience all that first hand as I write this letter. In the end my father said if they couldn't do all that, then they better stay as far away from a battlefield as possible._

 _I remember my older brother objecting that they would get drafted either way, but my father just said there are ways to serve in the Army without being in an actual battle and if they would tell him that they couldn't handle war as he described it to them, he would help them to find a way around it. It was my younger brother who then said that he didn't want to be seen as a coward to which my father replied that strength and bravery does not begin and end with the sacrifices made in wartime._

 _I must say, what you wrote how a soldier is supposed to function and that the only hope in war is to accept that you're already dead ... well, it is a harsh and absolute way of thinking and truthfully it shocked me. But I thought a while about your words and I came to not only understand them, but to comprehend them. I know why you would think this way and yes, they probably mean the same what my father told me, but I can't wholly agree with them._

 _If the only hope you have is to accept that you are already dead, then why continue to fight? If there is no other hope, then where is the point in being there to begin with? I think there has to be something that makes it all worth it. Be it the hope of keeping your loved ones safe or to make the world a better place. Or even just to see the sun rise again the next day. Life without hope is meaningless. Imagining myself in your situation, being at war, makes me realize that it probably is hard to hope for anything. I guess war makes the line between hoping and being hopeless pretty thin and though we still don't really know each other I can't help but to worry about what could happen to you if you loose all your hope. So please, don't loose hope, don't get lost in the horrors of war. Remind yourself that, despite all that is happening around you, there is still something worth living for, that there is hope, even if you have to put it far away in your mind for the time being._

 _Coming to think about it, you already did. Haven't you written that the four words at the end of my letter helped get you through a difficult day? Isn't thinking about staying safe and staying strong also a kind of hope?_

 _You have no idea how happy it makes me that my words were able to help you get through such a difficult day. I won't press, but just know if you need, or want, to talk about what happened, I'm more than happy to be the person you vent to. Not only happy, but I would be honoured. Maybe it's just me, but there's something special about letters that allows a person to be more open. Just know that I'm always here, and I'll be patiently waiting for whatever you decide to write._

 _I thought a lot about your offer to critique my artwork, even though you say yourself you know nothing of art. Sometimes that's even better, I think. It gives me perspective on what the average person thinks when they see my work. I have decided that I'll do it, but it might be a while before I have the time on starting a piece as I have currently a job as photographer in prospect that would take me away from home and leave me with little time to paint, if at all. Until then you could tell me if there is any preference of what you want. I can do landscapes or portraits. Any scene you would like? Or maybe a certain location? If there is a person you'd like me to do, I would need a picture of them, unless they're famous, of course. Then I can find an image on my own._

 _As for my job prospect, I won't tell you what it is about, at least not yet as nothing is official so far. It was offered to me shortly after my first letter to you and since then I have been preparing to meet the job's requirements. In fact, I only just got home a few days ago from where I had to go to prepare for it. If I am accepted or not I should know soon and when I do I'll let you know if there is a change in my return address or not. Either way, know that I look forward to a reply from you._

 _Stay safe. Stay strong. And thank you for all that you do._

 _J.H._

 _PS, I find it very hard to believe that you are uninteresting and 'usual'. What is usual, anyway? We are all interesting and unusual. That's what makes us 'us'. I'd very much like to know more about you and make those judgments for myself._


	4. Chapter 3

_**"Dear Soldier"**_

 **Note:** Credits go to Nevermore_red who's amazing story 'Written In Ink' on AO3 has greatly inspired me to write this story of my own.

Check out her story ' _ **Written In Ink**_ ' on _**AO3**_ in the fandom of _**Game of Thrones**_. You find it under her name _**Nevermore_red**_.

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

It was the 28th of June and they were just taken from the line after fighting for twenty-three days. The fighting was fierce and many lives were lost and many soldiers got wounded, some so bad they would never return to the front lines and others would recover with time to get back into the fight. Ron didn't get through the last days unscathed, he had bruises and cuts here and there and took a shrapnel to the shoulder, but luckily nothing so bad to be taken off the line.

Throughout all the days the four simple words written by the unknown woman stayed with him, always being at the back of his mind. He wondered if she already got his reply letter and what she thought of it, of the things he wrote. Would she write back? With a slight shock he realized that he would be ... sad should she not. This feeling confused him for a moment, but then he thought about it. He was curious about her. Over the last days since D-Day he often found himself reading her letter at a quiet moment, wondering what kind of woman she is. From the letter he guessed that she must be kind and compassionate, but somehow he wanted to know more. He even caught himself wondering what she looked like and how old she is. He gathered she must be older than eighteen as she wrote her younger brother is that age and as her older brother was in the Army as well, he guessed that she had to be in her twenties, somewhere around his own age maybe. He didn't understand why he thought about these things, maybe it was because he felt that she could understand him and he could talk freely with her about what goes through his head without getting judged by her. He didn't have many friends because most simply didn't understand the way he viewed things and life, but he felt that she could, she could accept and respect him the way he is and maybe become his friend. Admitting to himself, Ron came to the realization that he would like that.

Later that day Ron sat freshly showered at a table in the tent that served as mess hall. They were still at the camp on Utah Beach where they would spend the night in tents before being taken by ship back to England. He had a hot meal that tasted just slightly less bland than the rations in the field and was halfway through it when Lieutenants Winters and Nixon from Easy Company joined him at his table with a tray of food for each of them.

"Evening, Lieutenant Speirs.", Winters addressed him and Nixon gave him a nod as he sat down.

Ron briefly looked up, "Evening.", returned the nod at Nixon and went back to his meal.

"Is it any good?", Nixon asked, poking his fork into the pile of peas on his plate.

"It does what it's supposed to do.", Ron replied.

Nixon harrumphed and stuffed a fork full of peas into his mouth.

They ate mostly in silence. At one point Ron asked Winters if he would take over the command of Easy Company for good, the Lieutenant who had the command at the start of the invasion didn't survive D-Day, and Nixon answered that Colonel Sink just told Winters he would be promoted to Captain and take officially over Easy's command.

Ron nodded, "Congratulations to the promotion.", he said, looking at the red-headed Lieutenant.

"Thanks.", Winters replied with a slight incline of his head.

Just as Ron finished his meal Colonel Sinks runner was approaching them, carrying some envelopes in his hands.

"Evening, sirs.", the Private Vest said, "I have some mail that just came in."

The private handed Winters two envelopes and Ron received three. Looking at the handwriting on the envelopes he saw that one letter was from his parents, one from his sister Elsie and the last ... _Lt. R.S._

He recognized the script and unwittingly a small smile appeared on his face. She had written back.

"Mail from a sweetheart back home?", Nixon asked, a sly smirk and raised eyebrow directed at him.

A split second long Ron just stared at Nixon before saying, "I have no sweetheart back home. Goodnight, Lieutenants."

He stood up and left the tent, but not before he heard Nixon say to Winters, "Don't get me wrong, I suppose he is a good enough looking guy, but I can't imagine any girl being sweet on him."

"Why not?", Ron heard Winters ask, but he didn't linger long enough to hear the reply, though he can guess that it would be something along the line that women would be scared away from him by his dark and gloomy attitude.

Back in his tent he sat by a small lamp at the small table provided to him and read first the letter of his parents and youngest sister. They inquired about his well being and offered some supporting words, wishing him luck and fortune for what he has to do and told him about what went on in their lives. Elsie had added a drawing by his nine year old nephew that showed Ron in his uniform with a parachute above his head and 'Uncle Ronnie' written in untidy block letters on the top of the paper and 'Come back home soon' on the side. He smiled and thought about the last time he had seen his nephew while he was on leave home before being shipped to England. His sister and her son had stayed at their parents house during that time and George had mimicked the calisthenics he did every morning right after waking up, he remembered fondly.

Last he opened the letter from JH and read it. As he read the part about her cousin being a paratrooper in the same battalion as he is he did find that it was a funny coincidence. Did he know her cousin? Ron didn't know many soldiers outside of his own Company, mostly just the Officers and a few enlisted men by only their names. He didn't interact often with the men of his own Company and much less with the other two of the Battalion, though more so with Easy Company than with Fox Company. The corner of his mouth twitched up when he got to the part where she told him she wouldn't tell him who her cousin is and wrote that he should insert an evil smirk there. It let him know a bit more about her personality, telling him that she has a bit of mischievousness inside her and he liked that. It also told him that she probably wouldn't mind if she was on the receiving end of a bit of teasing or mischief and he liked that even more. Not many people know this, but Ron had humour. A devilish and sly kind of humour. And he also didn't mind teasing, whether he did it or he was the one subjected to it, though few really dared to tease him.

He noted that she mentioned her father often, in this letter as well as in her first. He guessed, as his daughter, she must admire him a great deal and from what she wrote about him he seemed like a man who deserved this admiration. From what she wrote about her father, he came across as a kind and honest man, a father who cared about his children. Ron was glad that she had a father like that. His own father cared a lot about his family too, but he knows that not everyone is so fortunate to have caring parents.

He also was glad that she understood his way of thinking. It strengthened his hope that maybe, out of this letter exchange could grow a friendship.

Hope.

She wrote about hope too and it made him put down the letter for a moment and stare at the wall of the tent. Maybe he had been wrong that the only hope in war is to accept you are already dead. Him thinking about her words of staying safe and strong were some kind of hope. And she is right, the line between hoping and being hopeless is pretty thin and difficult if not nearly impossible to maintain in war. He was warmed by it when he read that she worried about him and practically begged him to not loose hope. He supposed he could do it, even if it is just to hope to see the sun rising the next day as she wrote. Or to hope to get another letter from her.

She made him curious about her job prospect, but he could understand that she wanted to wait with telling him until things were official. He wondered what it could be, why she needed to prepare for it and what that entailed, though he supposed he had to wait for her update to find out. Hoping that this update would come soon, Ron put the letter to the other one in his tin box of pens and pencils, thinking that if they continued exchanging letters he would have to find another place for them. The box only had room for so much and somehow he didn't want to put her letters with the ones from his family. He felt they needed a special place.

Getting up, Ron slipped out of his jacket and pants, putting them over the back of the chair. He turned the lamp out, waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and laid down on the cot, pulling the blanket over him. Before he fell asleep, he hoped that she would write him soon to inform her if her return address changed or not. Until then he would put of writing a response. It couldn't come soon enough for him though.

* * *

Lewis Nixon was getting off the ship that brought them from France to England, his aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun. Two steps back on British soil he pulled his flask from his pocket and took a swig of his favourite Whiskey, kind of to drink to having survived Normandy and being back to safety for the time being. Dick was beside him, looking with a raised eyebrow at him as if to silently admonish him for drinking in the middle of the day. Lewis only raised his eyebrow in answer and held out the flask to his friend, who just shook his head with a small eye roll, declining the offer. Shrugging, he put the flask back into his pocket.

The harbour was full of people, soldiers mostly but on the edges a large group of civilians was welcoming them, cheering to them. Lewis pushed side by side with Dick through the mass of soldiers, trying to get as direct a path as possible to the waiting trucks and jeeps that would take them to Aldbourne.

Suddenly a female voice was shouting excitingly his name from ahead of them, "Lewis!"

He looked to where the voice came from, but all he saw was a mass of soldiers in olive-green uniform. Frowning, Lewis looked at Dick.

"Something you want to tell me?", Dick asked him.

Lewis shook his head, his eyes slightly widened, "I don't know."

The female voice called again, "Lewis! Lew!"

His eyes again in the direction from where the voice came Lewis started to get a little bit panicked. Shit, he thought, did one of the woman he got a little frisky with before the invasion read a little too much into their fling? Or did he somehow managed to get one of them knocked up and now she came to tell him and demand he take the responsibility for her and the unborn child? Shit, shit, shit.

He gave Dick a desperate, wide eyed look, seeking help, when he saw a red-headed small figure pushing their way through two soldiers from the corner of his eyes and barrelling into him not a moment later. Two slender arms circled his waist and a slim body was pressing against his. Looking down, Lewis only saw a head of fiery red hair pressed against his chest.

"Oh Lew, it's so good to see you.", the woman said, squeezing his waist a little harder.

He again looked wide eyed at Dick and his friend had a hard time suppressing a chuckle. Lewis mouthed 'What should I do?' to Dick, but he only shrugged. A bit awkwardly he patted the woman's back with one hand.

"Oh come now Lewis Nixon! Is that any way to greet me after we haven't seen each other so long? Give your cousin a proper hug, will ya?!", the woman said, reaching for his arm that still hung at his side and putting it around her.

Wait, did he hear right? Cousin? He frowned down at the red-haired head in his line of sight. That fiery shade of red ...

He moved his hands to the woman's shoulders and pushed her back, causing her to look up and immediately, as Lewis looked in familiar green eyes, his eyes widened in surprise and shock.

"Judy?", he asked, "What ... what the hell are you doing here?"

His cousin chuckled with a bright smile on her face, "Yes, it's me! Your cousin Judy. Who did you thought I am?", she narrowed her eyes at him, "Did you go gallivanting around with woman who are not Kathy? Your wife?"

Caught, Lewis shook his head quickly, "What? No, of course not! I'm-"

"Lewis Nixon! Don't you lie to me!", Judy slapped his chest, a smile tugging at her lips.

He smirked, "Yeah, well ..."

"You are a horrible husband!", she laughed, "Anyway ... do I get a proper hug now?"

Lewis didn't need to be asked again, pulling his cousin in for a hug, one hand on her back and the other holding her head against his chest as Judy's arms circled his waist again. He was surprised, but happy to see her, although four years age difference between them, they have always been close and he had thought often about her since they last saw each other two years ago. Though he still wondered what she was doing here in England and intended to find out as soon as possible.

They pulled apart, but not before Lewis cupped her cheek and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Studying Judy's smiling face he noted how much she changed in the two years they haven't seen each other. Judy still had been nineteen years old then, already a beautiful young woman who turned every man's head, but now at twenty-one, turning twenty-two in just under a month, she looked like a fully matured woman with feminine curves, graceful facial features and she even has lost all the baby fat of youth that made her still have a slight round face two years ago. He can only imagine that the men were probably all falling over themselves to gain her attention, laying the world down at her feet.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, Judy, but ... what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, looking down at his 5' 4" short cousin

Still smiling brightly Judy replied, "Didn't you get daddy's letter yet?"

Lewis shook his head, "The last letter I got from uncle Richard came a week before the invasion."

"Oh, well ... guess it's gonna come soon then."

"Suppose so.", Lewis said, "But honestly, I want to know why your here? In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on here in Europe and even though England is relatively safe it doesn't mean it's a good time for a vacation."

"How about you introduce me to your friend here first, huh?", Judy looked at Dick who was watching the reunion of the two cousins with a small smile.

"Judy, quit the stalling and tell me.", Lewis said a bit more sternly, but Judy only raised one gracefully bowed eyebrow and pursed her light pink painted lips.

Sighing, Lewis pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, causing his sunglasses to slip up a bit. He took off his sunglasses and motioned with them in his hand to Dick, "Judy, this is Lieutenant Richard Winters, or Dick to his friends.", motioning with the sunglasses to Judy he continued, "Dick, meet my annoying cousin Judy Hyde."

"Hey! I'm not annoying, you big oaf!", Judy protested and gave him another slap on his chest.

Lewis just rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.", Dick smiled and held out his hand to Judy.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lieutenant.", Judy beamed a smile at Dick and slipped her hand into his, "I heard a lot about you already from my oaf of a cousin over there. I take it you're the one who's trying to keep him from getting into trouble and I don't envy you for that task. God knows that wherever he goes he's bound to get into a situation he can't escape by himself from. Just be glad that my brother isn't here with him. Boy you can't imagine what trouble Andrew and Lew get into together. They're like two small boys on a sugar high!", she laughed.

Dick chuckled, briefly glancing and smirking at Lewis before looking back down at Judy, "I try my best, ma'am!"

"That's good, Lew needs someone to look out for him. Oh and please call me Judy. 'Ma'am' makes me feel so old."

"I can do that, but only if you call me Dick.", Dick smiled.

"With pleasure, Dick.", Judy smiled back and Lewis looked between the two of them, wondering if he ever had Dick seen smile so often and open at a woman he just met and marvelling once again how Judy got absolutely everyone to instantly fall almost in love with her.

He shook his head to clear his mind and get back to the important question that still wasn't answered, turning to Judy, "Now spit it out, Judy, why are you here?"

She smirked, "Well, you see, I'm the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment's and specifically the 2nd Battalion's new and very own civilian photographer."

The information seeped only slowly into Lewis' mind and he needed a moment to truly understand what his cousin was telling him. When it finally processed to a point where he registered just what that meant he exaggeratedly shook his head, "No! Absolutely not! You can't be serious."

Judy scowled at him, "I am serious!", she said and shoved a pass issued to her by the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, that held her picture and personnel data and stated that she was part of the US Army Signal Corps of the Photographic Section as a civilian photographer, under his nose, "Here."

Lewis took the pass out of her hand and looked at it. This ... thing allowed her access to any areas of the theatre and guaranteed that she received any assistance needed in her job. Being a photographer in the Signal Corps, even just a civilian one, meant that she would go everywhere the unit she was assigned to went, that included jumping out of airplanes with them, being on the front lines, in actual combat with them. She can't ... she must have lost her mind.

He clenched his jaw and pushed the pass back into her hands, "I'm not allowing this! Do your parents know about this? I don't believe they would even agree to it!"

"Of course they know! I told you daddy sent you a letter. He wasn't exactly thrilled that I accepted the offer and he only agreed to let me go under the condition that I'll be assigned to either your or Andrews unit and ... well, you know daddy. He pulled some strings with his old friends in the Army and as I'm standing in front of you now you see that he succeeded.", Judy replied, folding her arms in front of her chest and looking with a furrowed brow at him.

Lewis sighed, "Listen Judy, do you even know to what you agreed? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Just because you carry a camera instead of a gun doesn't mean the enemy won't shoot at you. Hell, they don't even need to aim directly at you ... a stray bullet is all it takes, or a mortar explosion!", he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand over his face, "Your mother! Aunt Linda would never let you do this. You're her pretty little gemstone, polished to shine so bright that everyone who looks at you gets blinded."

Snorting a rather unladylike laugh, Judy replied, "You don't even let me explain ... and it kind of is mum's fault to begin with."

"Now, who is lying to whom here, Judy?", he scoffed, "And what is there to explain?"

"It's true! It wasn't her intention and she is absolutely not happy with how it turned out, but it was her who got the ball rolling so to speak.", Judy answered, sounding annoyed, "And I will explain, but I think you need to calm down a bit first, Lew. So, what do you say? Think you're calm enough to survive a drive to Aldbourne with your dear cousin?"

Pressing his lips together, Lewis inhaled deep through the nose, his eyes holding Judy's for a moment before admitting defeat, though only for the time being, "Fine. But this is not over, Judy! I'll have you back on a ship to the States quicker than you can say Blitzkrieg."

Rolling her eyes, Judy said, "We'll see.", and turned to go ... in the wrong direction.

Lewis grabbed her upper arm and pulled her between himself and Dick, steering her towards the waiting jeeps and trucks on which Easy Company was already waiting. As they made their way for a jeep Lewis looked over Judy's head at Dick, shaking his head and sighed. Dick just gave him one of his barely there smirks and shrugged with one shoulder, silently telling him that he wouldn't get involved in this. Great, Lewis thought, just what he needed right now, dealing with his annoyingly stubborn cousin when all he wanted was to drown himself in Vat 69.


	5. Chapter 4

**"Dear Soldier"**

 **Note:** Credits go to Nevermore_red who's amazing story 'Written In Ink' on AO3 has greatly inspired me to write this story of my own.

Check out her story ' _ **Written In Ink**_ ' on _**AO3**_ in the fandom of _**Game of Thrones**_. You find it under her name _**Nevermore_red**_.

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

 _June 20th 1944_

 _R.S._

 _I got the job!_

 _I'm writing this letter as I sit at my desk in my room at my parents house, my suitcase and equipment already packed, while listening to my father trying to calm my mother down in the kitchen. I can understand why she is upset, but, honestly, I think she overacts a bit. Especially given that it was because of her the job was offered to me to begin with._

 _My family has always been part of the upper class and would often host social gatherings, dinners or fundraising events. In April my parents hosted a social dinner for all the high ranking old Army friends of my father and one of the attending Officers was a leading Officer of the Signal Corps. During a conversation my mother had with this Officer he mentioned something about the Photographic Section which is part of the Signal Corps and how they where always looking for photographers to join their ranks. My mother of course only heard something being said about photographers and began telling him that I am a photographer, even showing him my portfolio. Don't get me wrong, my mother is not a shallow person, but when it comes to her children she likes to show off and often forgets what really matters._

 _However, the Officer of the Signal Corps looked through my portfolio and it seems that he quite liked what he saw as later in the evening he approached me and told me that he is impressed by my ability to capture, as he put it, 'the truth behind the picture'. I don't deny that I was flattered and I think I might even have blushed a little, after all, it is not everyday you get such high praise for your work and everyone likes to get their ego stroked once in a while. To me it meant even more, because I often hear it said that my photography is considered sophistically too presumptuous and sometimes even ethically unacceptable. But I guess it's not my fault that most people just want to see what they want and go through life with rose-coloured glasses covering their eyes, refusing to see the, more often than not, ugly truth behind what they look at._

 _Well, to get to the point, he asked if I would be willing to work for the Army, to go to either the European or Pacific theatre and to document the war as it really is. He said that it was high time someone capture the true face of war in all its ugly and horrible ways and not just in moments that makes it look like some great glorious adventure. He felt that with my photographic skill I would be the right person for this. He explained what would be expected of me and the dangers that it entailed, saying that should I be willing I of course would need to go through some kind of basic training, which he said would be challenging, even more so for me because I am a woman._

 _What should I say, I always liked a good challenge and what's even more important, I quite agree with him. It is high time that the world sees what war really is like. I guess, I myself have just in recent years begun to understand war and what it is like for a soldier fighting it, partly thanks to the words of my father and also the words you wrote to me in your letter, but I think it would help me and everybody else help to understand it even more and in turn raise the appreciation, and make it truly genuine, of what you soldiers sacrifice while fighting for all of our freedom. Another hope is that once the people see what war is like for a soldier and with what he pays living through it, the care and support of veterans will increase and I don't mean just those veterans who come home with a missing arm or leg, but also those that come home with scars on their soul. Because, let's face it, the mental scars of war are often worse than the physical scars, it's just that nobody speaks about it, but I can still remember the nightmares and panic attacks my father had the years after the Great War and sometimes still has to this day._

 _Alright, so much to my reasoning why I would even consider putting myself in danger for just a few pictures. Of course I didn't make the decision lightly and on a whim. That very same evening I talked with my father about it, until well into the night, and he wasn't as enthusiastically about it as I am and he still isn't. In fact, at first he refused to allow me to go, but eventually he agreed to let me do it, though only under certain conditions, which I will explain later. My mother, as you probably can imagine, was even less thrilled by all this. She was furious with me and with my father, going so far as to threaten to lock me into my room (though she would never do that and I know she said it just in the heat of the moment). I can understand why she reacted the way she did, but I tried to make her understand my reasoning and why I felt I needed to do it. I know that she at least tried to accept my decision, though to this day she still hasn't come around and gives her best to persuade me to stay home. Alas, I am stubborn. Once I have my mind made up about something, anyone, even my parents, have a hard time getting me to change my mind. I admit, I feel a bit bad about causing her this kind of anguish, but she has to learn that I am no longer her sweet little girl she has to pamper and protect but a grown woman who has her own life and makes her own decisions. In time, I hope, she will come to understand this._

 _Now to the conditions my father demanded be met. He only agreed to let me do this when I won't be joining in actual combat. So that means I won't be running around snapping pictures when the action is going on, but I'm alright with that, even though it means I'll miss out on the chance to catch one important facet of war on a roll of film. Instead I will remain with headquarters during an attack. And yes, I know that even there my safety is not guaranteed and that it is possible I still could come into the thick of the fighting if the enemy springs an surprise attack on our forces, but I am willing to take that risk. The second condition my father had was that I be assigned to either the unit my older brother or my cousin is in, which he, through his connections, made possible. I guess he wanted this because he would feel more comfortable knowing there is family close by to whom I could turn to should there ever be the need and I think he also hopes that my brother or cousin will keep all the soldiers at bay who might be vying for the attention of the only woman in their midst._

 _Well, knowing all this now and if you have looked at the return address, you probably have connected the dots already and know now that I was assigned to my cousins unit, which leads me to the next topic I want to address. After I finish this letter I'll be on my way to New York and then by ship to England where I shall meet up with the 506th's 2nd Battalion in Aldbourne. I don't know if by that time you have already gotten this letter or not, however as soon as you're too back in Aldbourne and have read this letter, you probably know who I am. After all, I'll be the only woman in a sea of soldiers (well except for the one or other nurse I guess, but the camera I more often than not hold in my hands should distinguish me from them and I was told I would receive a uniform like yours, albeit with a different shoulder patch). Who knows, maybe I even have already taken a picture of you? I have a bit more of a disadvantage in recognizing who you are amidst all your fellow soldiers. The only things that would help me in figuring that out are that I know you're a Lieutenant of Dog Company and your initials, though it's not as if I'll go to each of Dog Company's Lieutenants now to try and find out who you are. But I'll admit, I'm curious_

 _Anyway, I don't mind you knowing who I am and I'll leave it for you to decide if you want to reveal yourself to me. Whatever you are comfortable with. Either way I would be happy if we continued exchanging letters, even if you decide to not approach me. I promise I won't go snooping around to find out who you are. Of course I can't do anything if at any time someone mentions by happenstance a Lieutenant with the initials R.S. of Dog Company to me and I figure out that it's you, but even then I won't approach you if you do not want me to. It's totally up to you._

 _Phew, that got longer than I thought. I apologize for this lengthy letter. It's a good thing I'm done now though, as it's gotten quiet in the kitchen and I figure my father is ready to go and well, it's about time too, or else I'm gonna miss my ship. Know that I look forward to a letter from you, or meeting you face to face if that is what you decide._

 _Stay safe. Stay strong. And thank you for all that you do._

 _J.H._

 _PS, I guess it doesn't make much sense in sending any letters through the mail once we're at the same place. But I bet we can come up with a way to exchange them even should you decide to stay anonymous._

* * *

Back in his billet in the small picturesque town of Aldbourne, England he stayed in before the invasion, a small and cosy house whose owners are a old married couple, Ron made his way up to the room he was sleeping in after being heartily welcomed back by the Wilsons. The room once belonged to the daughter of the Wilson's, who is long married now and has a house with her husband and children of her own, but there were little traces of her left inside it. There was a small embroidery hoop on the shelf at the wall with lilac wildflowers embroidered on it, two forgotten porcelain dolls sat next to it, a small lace doily covered the nightstand with a bedside lamp standing on it, a few books remained on another shelf and a cover made of granny-squares was lovingly placed over the foot of the bed.

He was tired and wanted to sleep, though it was still fairly early in the evening. Putting his duffle bag down on the bed, Ron took of the jacket of his dress uniform placed it neatly over a clothes hook and hung it into the wardrobe. He then loosened his tie and slipped it over his head from his neck and putting it away too. Unbuttoning the first button of his uniform shirt, he stood at the end of the bed in front of his duffle bag, intending to unpack. Once open, the first thing he pulled from the duffle bag was the letter a mail runner had hastily shoved into his hands before he had left the Battalion's headquarters and which he had stuffed without looking at it into his bag at the time. Looking at it now and seeing his rank and just his initials in a by now familiar feminine script, an involuntary smile crept onto his lips.

Shoving the bag a bit to the side he sat down on the edge of the bed and turned the envelope around, wanting to see if her return address had changed and when it did, where she did end up. Reading the address, Ron frowned. That can't be right. He pulled the knife from his boot, sliced the envelope carefully open and began to read.

When he was finished reading he let his hands with the letter in it sink into his lap. He didn't know what he should think about this. Not about if he would want to meet her or not, but about her being here doing what she wrote to him. Should he call her stupid and foolish for willingly risking her life just to snap some pictures? Or should he admire her for the reason she choose to do this? Maybe both, because it is admirably foolish and stupid. Though Ron understood her reasoning why she wanted to do this and he agreed with her, it was high time someone showed the world the true face of war.

He glanced down at the part where she wrote about the conditions her father made and though they hardly made a difference to the risk she is taking and the danger she'll be in, he could see that it was all her father could do to try and protect her even a little bit, safe from keeping her away from the war. But as she said, she's stubborn and that task would probably be not easy. He was glad to read that she wanted to make her own decisions and didn't make them lightly, it showed that she was mature and wanted to be independent from her parents.

As for her being in the same place as him and the possibility that this gives of meeting her face to face, well, he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't hoped to maybe one day meet her, but he thought they would have gotten to know each other better through letters before then. But then again, would it be so different to meeting someone at random, like in a pub, if he agreed to meet her now? He thought back to earlier today when he disembarked the ship and tried to remember if he since then has seen a woman amidst all the soldiers in Aldbourne. There were of course a few local woman he had seen walking around and he had seen a group of nurses conversing with some soldiers and ... but of course. He had seen a beautiful red-haired woman in a neat and fitting navy-blue skirt suit exiting a jeep with Lieutenants Winters and Nixon upon arriving in Aldbourne and wondered who she is. That must be her, Ron thought with a smile, remembering how he had looked her up and down and quite liked the soft curves he saw on her rather short frame. He can't say that this is how he imagined her to look, but the real her pleased him more than the image he had made up in his mind of her.

Now the question remains who of Winters and Nixon is her cousin. The red hair would indicate Winters, but Ron knows that just because of a shared hair-colour it does not have to mean someone is related. And Winters hair is more of a lighter red, almost a coppery orange, whereas her's is rich and fiery, like a sunset or burning ember. So it very well could be either of them, though it actually really doesn't matter. He was interested in getting to know her and not her cousin.

Ron read the part again where she said that she left the decision on how to proceed in his hand and made up his mind. With a smirk playing around his lips he continued to unpack his bag and afterwards sat down at the desk under the window, composing a response to her last two letters. When he was done he slipped his letter inside a blank envelope, placed it on the edge of the desk and went to bed.


	6. Chapter 5

**"Dear Soldier" **

**Note:** Credits go to **Nevermore_red** who's amazing story **'Written In Ink** ' on **AO3** has greatly inspired me to write this story of my own. Check out her story, you find it in the fandom of **Game of Thrones**.

I apologize for the delay in publishing a new chapter, but unfortunately real life got in the way. I promise you though, that I haven't forgotten about this story and intend to finish it. Also, many thanks for the lovely comments and favorites so far, they are a balm to my soul and I always love to read what you think about my work. I don't want to keep you from the new chapter any longer than necessary, so please enjoy. :-)

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

After breakfast the next morning Ron made his way to the Battalion's headquarters, the letter for his unexpected pen pal in his breast pocket. He found the man he was looking for where he expected him to be, behind a counter minding the telephone for Colonel Sink, doing all kinds of paperwork for him and probably bringing him even his coffee and also sorting the mail for all the soldiers.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Speirs.", the Private was saying after he noticed Ron.

"Good morning.", Ron leaned against the counter after checking the room and to his satisfaction seeing that he and the Private were currently the only people present. He pulled the envelope out of his breast pocket and tapped it with the edge down on the top of the counter.

"Should I put this with the outgoing mail, sir?", the Private asked, pointing a finger at the envelope.

Ron stopped tapping it on the counter and looked at it, "No, but you can do something else for me. Vest, is it?"

Nodding, Private Vest replied, "Yes. Well, what can I do for you, sir?"

"Do you know the female photographer that got assigned to 2nd Battalion?"

A wide smile spread on Private Vest's face, "Yes, Lieutenant Nixon's cousin, Miss Judy Hyde. A lovely woman. Very nice."

So she's related to Nixon. He should have guessed this as she mentioned that her family has always been part of the upper class and everybody knew that Nixon came from a family of money. And her name is Judy. He liked it, it suited her. What he strangely didn't like was how Private Vest's face lit up at the mention of her, his cheeks taking on a faint red tint. Was that jealousy that stabbed him in the gut there? Now, that would just be plain ridiculous. He doesn't even now her, why would he be jealous when another man smiles like this because his still very much unknown pen pal provokes such a reaction by him when thinking of her?

Ron clenches his jaw and stares darkly at Private Vest, whose smile then faltered and eyes slightly widened, no doubt thinking of all the intimidating things he supposedly had done or not done. Ron quite liked the reputation he had, it made people do what he says without questioning him. He put the envelope flat on the counter and pushed it with a finger on it to the edge towards Vest, "Give this to her, but don't tell her from whom it is."

Private Vest blinked, looking at the envelope. Swallowing he raises his eyes, "Sir, Miss Hyde is currently with Colonel Sink in his office. I'm sure she should come out any moment. You could wait and give it to her yourself."

Ron looked down the corridor to Colonel Sink's door. Directing his gaze back at Vest, he pulled three packs of Lucky Strikes from his jacket and put them atop the envelope, "Give her the letter, don't tell her who it is from and tell her that if she has a response, she shall give it to you. You will bring her response to me and make sure that she doesn't see who you give it to. In the future you will continue doing this. Tell her, whenever she wants to get a letter to me, she shall just give it to you and that you will pass it on. Don't tell anyone else of this arrangement, don't ask questions and, again, don't let her see that it is me who writes her letters and gets her responses. Understood, Private?"

Vest looked a bit confused, but he nodded in understanding, grabbing the cigarette packs and envelope from the counter, "Of course, sir."

"Good.", Ron nodded and turned to go.

Before he had taken a step away from the counter a thought played in his mind and he smirked, moving his body back towards the counter. "Do you have a pen and paper, Private?"

"Ehm, yes, sir, of course.", Vest put a pen and paper in front of Ron, "Here you go, sir."

Ron just nodded and wrote down a short message, folding the paper and handing both back to the Private. "Add this to the envelope."

"Will do, sir.", he took the folded paper and pen from Ron's hand.

A curt nod and Ron turned around and walked towards the door that lead outside. Before he reached the door he looked back over his shoulder at the Private who looked puzzled at the folded paper in his hands, his eyes narrowed in warning, "It goes without saying that under no circumstances will you ever read what I or Miss Hyde give you, no matter if it's a letter in an envelope or just a folded message. And remember, this stays between us. Is that understood, Private?"

With an intimidated look Private Vest hastily replied, stuttering, "Per-perfectly, sir!"

Without uttering another word Ron left the building.

* * *

 _Judy,_

 _Since writing the letter you just received I have learned your name. It suits you._

 _I have arranged for our correspondence to be given to you and me by Private Vest. Please give any letter or even just a short message you have for me to him. He will make sure that I receive it._

 _I also have found out that your cousin is Lieutenant Nixon. I don't envy you. While good at his job and a mostly agreeable acquaintance, I don't know if I could put up with being related to him._

 _I wish you a good day._

 _R.S._

* * *

Colonel Sink came across as a fatherly kind of person, kind, genuinely caring, but also stern and strict. Judy liked him, even though he was currently giving her a speech how she would need to conduct herself while being here. She knew all this already of course, having heard similar speeches during her rushed basic training, but she still listened smiling and nodded at the appropriate places.

"... and lastly, while you are not an actual member of the US Army it is not forbidden to you to have ... mh ... intimate relations with the soldiers. However, I discourage and urge you to refrain from entering such a relationship with them. The men don't need this kind of distraction. There are more important things that should be on their minds.", Sink said in a definite tone and looked her resolutely in the eyes.

"Of course, sir. I understand.", Judy replied, "And I assure you that you need not worry about it. I am here to do my job and not find a husband. And you also needn't worry about me behaving in any way that would bring shame upon the Army and the men wearing the American uniform.", she beamed a smile and pointed to her newly issued uniform she was wearing, which was the same as every soldiers in the Airborne, though with a shoulder patch identifying her as a photographer of the Signal Corps and not the Screaming Eagle of the 101st Airborne Division.

Okay, maybe she was laying it on a bit thick now, she thought and couldn't hide a slight cringe of her face, which the Colonel seemed to have noticed as he was chuckling a bit. "You certainly know what to say to please, Miss Hyde."

Judy let out a short light laugh, "Well, you don't grow up in the circles as I did and not know how to flatter and please people, sir. But I meant it. My father instilled my siblings and me with the respect and honour we should show those who serve or served our country and I would never deliberately disregard these things."

Sink nodded, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the top of his desk, "Yes, I imagine your father did that. He participated in how many wars? Three?"

"Yes. He fought in the Negro Rebellion and served with the occupation force of Nicaragua once from 1912 to 1914 and later a second time from 1923 to 1925, from 1917 to 1918 he fought in the Great War and from 1918 to 1919 in the Russian Civil War.", Judy clarified, "He eventually retired in 1938."

"A great man, your father. Some would even call him a hero for what he did during the Great War. And not to forget all the other things he did for the Army. You could say he helped shape the Army to what it is today."

Judy huffed a laugh, "Oh, never call him that to the face, sir. In my father's eyes he did what he had to do and that was to get himself and as many of his comrades as possible through the war alive. For him there was nothing heroic on what he did to achieve that. The true heroes to him are those who didn't come home. 'Reluctant heroes' he calls them."

The Colonel nodded thoughtfully, "Quite humble, your father. But it is a fitting term ... 'reluctant heroes'."

Judy nodded, "That it is, sir."

After a beat of silence Sink continued, "How many siblings do you have, Miss Hyde?"

Surprised about the personal question, Judy answers nonetheless, "Two brothers ... one older and one younger ... and a little sister, sir. My older brother Andrew is a Captain with the 1st Infantry Division and my younger brother Richard has just finished basic training and is now on his way to the Pacific theatre where he will join with the 2nd Marine Division."

"And your cousin also serves his country.", Sink said and Judy wondered where this was going and nodded, "He was here this morning, wanting to talk to me about something important."

Judy's lips thinned and she made a sound in her throat, "I see."

She knew exactly what Lewis wanted to talk with Colonel Sink about. Even though he had let her explain everything the previous evening and even had understood why she wanted to be here, but still Lewis wanted nothing more than to see her on a ship back home ... well except maybe a lifelong supply of Vat 69. It felt a bit like betrayal for him to go behind her back like this, but damn if she didn't understood his reasons for doing it. Were she in his position, she probably would do the same.

"I believe I have never seen Lieutenant Nixon up that early if he didn't need to.", Sink said.

Judy chuckled, "No, I guess not.", then she turned serious again, "I believe I know what he wanted to talk with you about, sir. So, all I really need to know is whether I shall pack my things again or not."

Colonel Sink regarded her for a moment with pursed lips, his greying moustache twitching, "No, unless you want to grant your cousin his wish then you can stay where you are and start your work in a weeks time when the men are back from their leave."

She breathed a sigh of relief, "I will have to deny him this wish. My mind is made up and I won't let anybody tell me otherwise."

Sink nodded, "Very well. I expected nothing else.", he stood up and walked around the desk, "I think this concludes this meeting for the time being, Miss. As you'll be spending a lot of time at headquarters, and in turn with me, once we're on the front line again I wanted to see what kind of person you are. I think it will be a pleasure to have you around."

Judy stood up from her chair and faced Colonel Sink, who was offering her his hand, with a smile, "I always aim to please, sir!", she replied and shook his hand.

He chuckled and lead her to the door, saying, "Don't we all?", to which Judy joined with a chuckle. With a hand on the doorknob Sink was looking at the uniform she wore, "By the way, Miss Hyde, you do know that you're only required to wear the uniform when we're on the front line. When on base you are allowed to wear your civilian clothing."

"I know.", she nodded, "But it felt right to wear it for the meeting and I also think that it will help me blend in more. It lessens the risk of me causing distractions.", Judy added with a cheeky smile.

With an approving look Sink opened the door, "Can't disagree with that."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, sir. And thank you.", she said, the thanks for not agreeing with Lewis and sending her back to the states.

"Nothing to thank me for, Miss Hyde. And don't be too hard on your cousin, he just worries about you."

"I know and I'll try my best. Good day to you, sir."

"Good day, Miss Hyde.", Sink said and closed the door once she left.

Judy was intent on seeking out Lewis to give him a piece of her mind and just smiled at Private Allen Vest as she walked by the counter in the foyer of the building. Under different circumstances she might have stopped to talk with him, but she needed to get the simmering anger over Lewis' betrayal out of her.

"Miss Hyde!", Vest called and Judy stopped.

"I told you to call me Judy, Allen.", she looked at him, "What can I do for you?"

Allen Vest blushed and he smiled shyly at her, "I- I have something for you, Miss Hy- Judy."

"Oh?", Judy walked to the front of the counter and waited.

Allen cleared his throat and held an envelope and a folded piece of paper up and towards her, "I was told to give this to you."

Judy's smile widened and she grabbed the two things from Allen's hand. She could guess who they are from and is suddenly excited. She had hoped he would write back even if there was a possibility that he didn't want to meet her, but to hear something so soon after she and he too got to Aldbourne was a surprise.

"I was also told that ...", Judy heard Allen speaking, but didn't understood the words. She was enfolding the piece of paper and read it with a smile. Her smile widened when she read that her mystery soldier thought her name suits her and she felt warmth rushing to her cheeks. She laughed about the part of Lewis and with a happy feeling over having heard from her new pen pal she folded the note again and looked up into the confused face of Allen.

Still laughing a bit, she asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Blinking, Allen repeated, "I was told that whenever you have a response for ... well for..."

"Let's just call him Lieutenant.", Judy helped and continued, "And I know. He mentioned it in the note. Do you by chance have a pen and paper?"

"Ehm, yes, Miss H- Judy.", still confused and wondering what this was all about Allen gave Judy the same pen as Lieutenant Speirs and a new sheet of paper and watched her write down something.

"Thank you, Allen. Can you give the Lieutenant this?", she gave him back the pen and now folded paper.

"Of course. If you don't mind me asking, do you ... well, do you know Lieutenant S- ... I mean the Lieutenant?"

"We exchanged letters before.", Judy answered, "And thank you for playing personal mailman between him and me."

Allen nodded, relief flowing through him at knowing that she seemed to know Speirs ... at least somewhat, even if it's just through letters and not knowing his name, "Oh, okay. That's good ... I wouldn't have felt comfortable doing this if you had no idea who he is."

"Technically I don't know who he is, but he's not a complete stranger to me. And you need not worry, I feel quite okay with receiving letters from him.", she assured him, finding it cute that he worried.

"Well, that's ... good.", Allen said, not really sounding if he was sure about it.

Judy laughed lightly and patted his hand, "Don't think about it too much. I wish you a good day and thank you again, Allen.", she said and pocketed the envelope from her mystery soldier in her uniform jacket, turning around and walking to the door.

"Good day to you too, Miss Judy!", Allen called after her and before leaving the building Judy smiled at him over her shoulder.


	7. Chapter 6

**"Dear Soldier"**

 **Note:** Credits go to _**Nevermore_red**_ who's amazing story _**'Written In Ink'**_ on _**AO3**_ has greatly inspired me to write this story of my own and who graciously permitted me to publish it with those parts I borrowed from her story. Check out her story, you find it in the fandom of _**Game of Thrones**_.

Again I'm sorry for the major delay in publishing another chapter. Real life is very busy these last few months and I only find time to write very little. But I still haven't forgotten about this story and will see this through to the end, no matter how long it will take me.

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series or the book, nor do I mean ANY disrespect to the men of Easy Co. All that is mine are the OCs and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.**

* * *

As soon as she stepped out of the headquarters building and walked alongside the sidewalk, intent on finding her cousin, every soldier who spotted her couldn't take their eyes off her. For once Judy thought they weren't looking to check her out but because they were wondering about the woman in uniform.

"Hey toots are ya lost? I'll show ya the way, just tell me how ya like your eggs in the morning!", or maybe not, she added with an eye-roll to her thoughts as a soldier standing among his friends on a patch of grass next to the sidewalk called out to her.

At first she thought to just ignore him and his laughing and hollering friends, but then thought that maybe she should make a statement and stopped walking. Turning her head in the direction of the soldier she raised her eyebrow and called back, smirking, "You want to know how I like my eggs?", the soldier was momentarily stunned that she reacted to his sleazy pick-up line but nodded once he realized she was talking to him, "Unfertilised!", she called to him and her smirk grew at the confused expression of the soldier.

She continued on her way, hearing the soldier get laughed at by his friends. She isn't sure if they really understood what 'unfertilised' meant, but they at least understood that their friend just got rebuffed by her. She didn't see the smoking and dark-haired soldier standing in the shadows against the wall of the headquarters building witnessing the whole scene with a scowl directed at the sleazy soldier and also didn't see his scowl morphing into a crooked smirk at hearing her response.

Funny as it is the bad pick-up line of the soldier made Judy think how she really liked her eggs in the morning. You know, the ones actually laid by a hen. She liked her eggs scrambled, the only one in her family who preferred her eggs that way because she didn't exactly like the taste of the egg yolk alone, but mixed together with the egg white she didn't mind it too much. This in turn made her think about how Lew liked his eggs, fried and with the yolk still runny and slimy, and how she always has to fight gagging when he eats them in front of her and she sees the yellow yolk dripping down his fork. This thought makes her direct her steps to the mess hall as she thinks that if there is one place Lew will be this early in the morning, it would be somewhere he gets something to eat and loads of coffee.

Upon reaching the mess hall and entering it she looked around the tables, ignoring the looks she got and the few catcalls and whistling that were sent her way. She was looking for only one person and when she spotted his dark and messy haired head Judy walked with steady steps to his table. Lewis sat with the back to her and Dick, a blonde-haired and a curly-haired soldier were sitting with him at the table. He didn't see her coming and Dick and the curly-haired soldier, who were sat facing in her direction, seemed to not tell him of her approach if they saw her.

Sliding onto the bench next to Dick who looked at her with a smile, Judy stared at the surprised face of Lewis, saying flatly, "Don't do that again."

Lewis gaze wandered to Dick and the other two soldiers before settling on her again, "Good morning to you too, Judy."

She knew that it probably isn't the nice way to confront him in the presence of his fellow soldiers and friends, but Judy could care less in this moment. All she wanted to do was get this whole matter out of the way.

"Morning. Don't do that again.", she repeated.

Lew raised his eyebrow, mirroring the blonde-haired soldier next to him and the curly-haired soldier sitting next Dick. Though while their brows were raised in curiosity, Lew's were raised in feigned cluelessness. Only Dick watched the exchange with a neutral expression, no doubt already knowing what this was about. "What do you mean?", Lew asked, trying to sound innocent.

She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from retorting in anger, "Don't play stupid, Lew. You know exactly what I mean."

He sighed and his shoulders slumped, "And?"

"What do you think?", she returned the question.

"You're staying."

"I do. And I would appreciate it if you accept that and not go behind my back and try to get me send home again. It's not your decision to make.", she told him, ignoring the curious glances the two to her unknown soldiers were casting between Lew and her.

Lewis sighed again and glanced at Dick who still watched the exchange silently. "I worry about you. It's dangerous, you being here, Judy."

"I know that. I worry about you too, Lew. We talked about this yesterday. So, can you accept and respect my decision to do this or not?", she said kindly, feeling a bit guilty at his defeated look.

Rubbing his face Lew sat back, "Well, it's not as if I have a different choice now, do I?"

Judy shrugged, "Of course you do. You can either decide to at least try and make this as easy as possible for us and accept and respect me being here, or you can continue trying to get me send home and in doing so put a strain on the good relationship we have and make this harder for both of us than this has to be.", she paused, "You're choice. And I'm telling you now that I would prefer if you choose the first option, but if not ... well, then I'm sorry."

Lewis frowned, "Why would you be sorry?"

"For making you make me feel resentful towards you, when all you do is worrying about me and wanting to know I'm safe and nothing's going to happen to me.", Judy said, her posture relaxing and voice taking on a kinder tone, "You're like a third brother to me, Lew, and I know that you think of me like another little sister next to Blanche, but that doesn't give you the right to make decisions for me. I'm a grown woman and I make my own decisions now. I'm not longer the annoying little girl that trails after her big brother and older cousin who likes to be carried on their shoulders or who needs you to defend her from other children who pushed her into the dirt or stole a toy from her. What I need now from you is for you to support me in my decisions and if need be a shoulder to lean on and if you can't do that, than I at least need you to accept and respect the decisions I make, whether you think they are wise or utterly stupid and foolish."

For a moment Lew was looking at her deep in thought, "Alright. I don't know if I can fully support you in your decision to be here, though I understand why you want to do this. What I can't see is why it must be you who has to do it. There are plenty of other photographers who could do it. But I can try ... no, I can accept and respect your decision, even though it's difficult. And you'll always have my shoulder to lean on, no matter what."

Relief coursed through her and she smiled brightly at her cousin, "Thank you. That's all I ask for.", and then she crimped her nose and added, "There's one thing your wrong about though. There is no other photographer who could do what I want to, because they're not as good as I am."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head and Judy chuckled with him, glad that everything was okay between them.

When they got quiet again Judy turned to Dick, "Now, that I got that out of the way, I can finally greet the rest of you. Good morning, Dick!", she smiled at him.

"Good morning, Judy. Did you sleep well?", Dick replied calmly and with a smile.

"Yes, the family I'm staying with are very courteous and accommodating and the room and bed they provided for me are quite cosy."

"That's good to hear.", he replied and then introduced the other two soldiers at the table, "This is Lieutenant Harry Welsh, he's Easy Company's 1st Platoon leader.", he motioned to the curly-haired soldier next to him and then to the blonde-haired soldier next to Lewis, "And this is Lieutenant Lynn Compton, he commands Easy's 2nd Platoon."

Smiling, Judy reaches her hand passed Dick, "Hello, I'm Judy. Nice to meet you!"

"I'm Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you after we heard so much about you this morning.", Harry shook her hand, answering her smile and Judy saw that he had a oddly adoring gap between his front teeth.

"Only this morning?", she retracted her hand with a smirk and Harry chuckled.

"Well, it seems Nix wanted to keep his pretty cousin all to himself.", Lieutenant Compton quipped and offered her his hand over the table, "I'm Buck. Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Judy chuckled, "Call me Judy, Buck. And you think I'm pretty?"

Buck gave her a wide smile, flashing his teeth, "Very much. Can't believe you're in any way related to Nix."

"Hey, are you saying I'm ugly?", Lew threw Buck an offended look, "And I did not keep Judy to myself. I told Dick plenty of her!"

Judy laughed as she saw Lew looking to Dick for help and told Buck, "Too bad not everyone can be as blessed with good looks as you and me, huh?!"

Judy stayed for a while with her cousin, Buck, Harry and Dick in the mess hall, making jokes on Lewis' expense and talking with them over the reasons why she is here and what she hopes to accomplish with it. She liked them. Harry reminded her of an Irish leprechaun, always a quip or joke on his lips and up to no good and Buck was like a poster-college-boy, good-looking, easy-going, fun to talk to and always willing to flirt. And Dick, well, Dick was quiet and calm, courteous and always ready to help. He was easy to talk with and was an attentive listener and his answers were always well thought through and to the point. Every now and then he made a dry joke nobody expected and had the whole table cracking up in laughter, but what she liked probably most of him was that he seemed to be a really good friend to Lew.

Judy was quite serious the other day when she said to Dick that Lew needed someone to look out for him. Not because she didn't trust Lew to be able to take care of himself, but because Lew tended to ... oh well, let's just say not everybody's perfect and where Lew has some 'imperfections' or rather lacks in behaviour, Dick complemented him. Judy thought Dick and Lew were good for each other, where Lew is more extroverted, Dick is introverted and together they make a perfect match, one pushing the other to be a little more daring, to come out a bit more and the other to keep the one from going too wide and to sometimes tune it a bit down.

By the time Judy parted ways with her cousin and his fellow Lieutenants they had moved from the mess hall to the local pub, had enjoyed a typical British lunch as much as the rationing admitted, shared some stories of their lives back home and indulged in a bottle or two of beer for Buck and Harry, a water for Dick, a Whiskey for Lew and a Gin and Tonic for herself.

Content with herself and how the little strain between her and Lew was solved Judy stepped out of the pub into the early evening air, looked up into the dimming sky and started to walk in the direction of her billet. Now, she finally had a letter to read.

* * *

After a slow and easy day Ron left the local pub where he had enjoyed a Whiskey in quiet. In his breast pocket the folded piece of paper with a message from Judy, which Private Vest had given him when he saw him in the pub, was burning into his chest.

Ron still couldn't understand why he felt so strongly about getting letters from Judy, or any kind of message really. Even more so now that he had seen the person who was behind the delicate and feminine script on paper.

Back in April when her first letter came he had it soon after reading almost forgotten, not a thought was spent on the words she wrote – until D-Day. After D-Day he carried the letter of this unnamed woman in his breast pocket, reading it once a day, if he had the time. At one point Ron could have recited it from memory. Somehow her words made Normandy more bearable. After her second letter he was curious about her and he felt a connection to her simply because he felt like she understood him. The third letter revealed a lot about her personality and then Ron was sure that he had to get to know her.

From what Judy wrote he gathered that she was a strong and kind woman, compassionate and caring, full of life and passionate about her beliefs and yearning to experience life to its fullest, away from restrictions her upbringing brought with it. In his eyes she was a young woman who took her first resolved steps into independence. And he admired her for that. Ron has seen so many young women who went from being their parents protected and mollycoddled daughter to being the well provided for wife of a husband without ever standing on their own feet and facing the world with all its difficulties. True, in some way Judy's parents had played a small role in her getting the job with the Signal Corps, but it was her skill and her determination that made her get the offer in the first place and in the end she had stood her ground and convinced her parents to let her do this. He still thought it was stupid and foolish to risk her life for it, but also brave and truly admirable because she wanted to do this for all the right reasons. He also couldn't deny that he felt ... joy to know she was here, because now this strange connection he felt towards her felt more real – tangible.

Judy was no longer an unknown figure behind some ink on a paper, but a real person, within his reach and someone he felt it would be easy to talk to and to share his concerns and worries with, or to simply talk about his beliefs and things that interest him, or even just the weather. He no longer was just curious about her but intrigued ... after seeing how beautiful and stunning she is and how savvily she rebuffed the Corporal of Fox Company this morning – dare he say it might even be infatuation? She certainly warranted such emotion and not only because of her looks.

Ron shook his head and put out the cigarette he had been smoking as he reached his billet – he shouldn't feel that way. Not at this time and this place. He was fighting a war and didn't need distractions of that kind. His focus should be on being the exemplary soldier he trained to be, but Ron could do nothing against the image of Judy walking down the sidewalk with her fiery red hair bouncing gently up and down with every step coming unbidden before his minds eye. He still wondered if he would burn his hand should he run his fingers through it.

* * *

 _R.S._

 _I am so so glad to hear from you and know that you are back from France well and safe. And I am happy that you decided to stay in contact with me, even though I admit that I would have liked meeting you in person. But what not is can still come to be, right?_

 _Private Vest informed me of the arrangement you made and as long as you want me to I will make use of him as our personal mailman. I had, however, to reassure him that I am alright with you sending me letters, even though I don't know who you are. He seemed quite uncomfortable with the task of giving me letters from a stranger, but I explained to him that we exchanged letters before and he visibly relaxed. So I think there should be no problems with this arrangement._

 _I know it is not easy to put up with a Nixon and Lewis is a particular stubborn one. I love him dearly, but even I sometimes want to hide my face in my hands when someone learns we are related. Take comfort in the knowledge that there is absolutely no trace of Nixon-blood in me as Lewis and I are related through our mothers who were both born a Ryer ;-)_

 _I too, wish you a good day._

 _Judy_


End file.
